


Aftereffects

by Eienvine



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 18:52:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2864549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eienvine/pseuds/Eienvine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not lost on either of them that Skye shot Ward in the side, not the head. One-shot. Not quite Skyeward, but also not quite not Skyeward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftereffects

**Author's Note:**

> Today I got to pondering about why Skye shot Ward in the side when at that distance she could have gone for his head and made sure she killed him. And it may turn out that the reason is simply that the writers needed to keep him alive, but I wanted to write something exploring what it might mean if it turns out that wasn't just a plot device.
> 
> I'm not a Ward apologist, but I'm also not in the "Ward is the worst I hope he dies in a fire" camp. I think they've done a good job making him a very complex character: I find him rather sympathetic, coming as he does from a screwed-up upbringing at the hands of both his family and John Garrett, but this doesn't change the fact that he's done a lot of pretty terrible things. And he kind of deludes himself sometimes, like when he thought he was still part of the team despite all that he's done. I tried to capture all of this in his portion of the story; this is just my interpretation so you may disagree, but this is where I see him being at right now.

. . . . . .

It's not lost on Skye that she shot Ward in the side, not the head.

She tells herself there was good reason for it. She tells herself that she had every reason to believe that he would die; abdominal gunshot wounds are generally fatal if the person can't get medical care, and he was stranded in a large abandoned building and unable to walk on his own. He should have died, and it baffles her (although it probably shouldn't) that he seems, improbably, to have survived. But not killing him right off gave her the chance to face him and let him see that she wasn't afraid to shoot him, that he doesn't have the hold over her that he seems to think he does . . . and more importantly, it gave her a chance to see the same things herself. He got inside her head and messed her up last year, and she needed that moment of closure. It was good for her. And that's why she didn't go for the immediate kill.

But in the days following the terrible events in San Juan, when she collapses onto her bed exhausted from a day spent trying to understand and control this strange new ability she's gained, when her defenses have been lowered by her confusion and her fear and her sorrow, she knows she's lying to herself. She knows that at that distance she could easily have made a head shot, but she instinctively went for his abdomen because she's a fool and a fraud. What kind of SHIELD field operative can't kill a genuine, certified bad guy?

None of this occurred to her right when the shooting occurred. Her mind was entirely on stopping Whitehall and keeping obelisk out of the underground city, and then later on her inability to shoot her father, and then later still on her new power and on Trip's death. It was only at the debriefing late that night, when she was narrating her version of the events of the day, that it occurred to her that she couldn't kill Ward any more than she could kill her father. She said nothing and Coulson made no sign of noticing how odd it was that she hadn't killed Ward straight off. But in the days that follow, in Coulson's silence, in his looks, even in his kindness, she's sure she detects disappointment and pity. And if he doesn't feel that way, he should, because she's almost unbearably disappointed in herself. Both with her father and Ward . . . she let everyone down.

Because as much as she hates Ward, as much as every shred of her conscious mind is certain that the world is better off without him in it, there is some traitorous part of her, buried deep in the dark, instinctive part of her brain that she can't get at, that can't kill him. And it's not that there was once a time when she thought she wanted to be with him, or even that before that she thought they were friends; she can mostly forgive herself for those sentiments, because he's an expert liar, an expert at hiding who he really is.

No, the reason she can't kill him, she admits to herself on those bleak dark nights, is that Ward may be a lying Hydra murderer but in a twisted way, he is part of her very being. She is who she is because of Grant Ward. The only identity she's ever had that has really mattered to her is that of SHIELD agent, and she's a SHIELD agent because of him. He was her SO, and he taught her all the important basics—the foundation on which May has been building the rest of her training. Every time she blocks a punch or fires a gun, every time she saves her own life or someone else's, in some small way that's Ward's doing because he taught her all those things.

And even more than that, he was (and it disgusts her to think of it now) an inspiration to her in those early days. He was the reason she dragged herself out of bed at an ungodly hour every morning to train, the reason she pushed herself until her legs gave out and her knuckles bled. And not because she was in love with him, because she hadn't developed feelings for him at that point, but because for all she used to tease him, she knew that he was amazing. He was the absolute best at what he did, except for Romanov and maybe May. He was good at nearly everything he touched, he was incredibly strong both physically and mentally, and he always seemed to be in control of every situation. To a girl who'd been tossed between foster homes and orphanages her entire life, who'd been abandoned time and time again and had always been powerless to do anything about it, the thought of being powerful like Grant Ward . . . she'd thought it was all she'd ever want. She became a SHIELD agent because it gave her purpose, it gave her a family, and someday it would make her as strong as Grant Ward.

So that's why she shot him in the side, not the head. It's a weakness, and she hates herself for it, almost as much as she hates Ward. And she swears to herself that the next time they meet, she will kill him, swiftly and unhesitatingly, a shot to the head this time. She visualizes that future confrontation over and over again, practices shooting him in her mind so that she will act without hesitation in the real world (and then she hates herself a little more, because she learned that technique from Ward).

Next time they come face to face, Grant Ward won't be so lucky.

. . . . . .

It's not lost on Ward that Skye shot him in the side, not the head.

He knows he taught her better than that. He knows he taught her that center mass shots are the safest bet, especially at a distance, but that for a close shot, like the one she made in that kitchen, to go for the head, to be absolutely sure . . . at least if you want the person dead. And Skye isn't stupid; she wouldn't forget that. So the only conclusion he can draw is that on some level, she doesn't want him dead.

He doesn't come to that conclusion right away. For the first few minutes, as he lays there bleeding out on the kitchen floor and the shock from the wound is clouding his mind, all he can think is that after everything they've been through together, after everything he's done for her, the girl he loves has killed him. He always thought he would go out this way—people like him don't get to die peacefully in their sleep—but he never thought Skye would be the one to pull the trigger. He thought she knew why he'd done the things he'd done for Garrett; he thought she was aware of all the things he'd done for her since then. He thought she understood him; clearly he was wrong. Bitterness fills the hollow cavity in his chest that's normally filled with her, and with only that bitterness and the echo of angry voices—Garrett's, and his mother's—for company, he waits to die.

But he does not die. His body armor caught two of the bullets, so he isn't bleeding quite as fast as he would have done, and he manages to hold out until Agent 33 appears, lost and confused. His survival instincts kick in, and he talks her into helping him leave the building. They make their way to a man in San Juan, a vet who does a little black market surgery on the side, who luckily owes Ward a favor. And he lays there on the table, gritting his teeth against the pain as Andres digs bullets out of his side (he can provide only mild anesthesia) and 33 paces in the other room, it occurs to him that he's lucky to be alive. And then it occurs to him that Skye's better than this; he should be dead. And that's when he concludes that at least a tiny part of her can't kill him.

The thought buoys him in the coming days as he recuperates slowly in a dingy safe house in San Juan—the result of calling in a second favor—while 33 watches and frets. He's not entirely sure what to do with the woman. He can't break her conditioning, but since her loyalty was to Whitehall first and foremost, she's not inclined to return to Hydra. But Ward can't keep her around forever; her scarred face would attract too much attention. He supposes that once he's recovered, he'll use some of his contacts to find her a position in private security or a militia somewhere; that's all she wants, really, is to find some place to fade into obscurity.

But Ward doesn't spend much time thinking about 33—or looking at her, for that matter, because she still has May's face and it still makes him a bit uncomfortable. Instead he thinks about his next move: where will he go, now that he is on both Hydra and SHIELD's bad list, and how will he convince Skye to give him another chance.

Because honestly, he has no idea. He thought bringing her to her father would do it, especially if it helped her figure out who she really was as Raina was always insisting. He knows how much she's always wanted to find her family; she talked about it a little in those early days on the Bus, and even when she wasn't talking about it, he could read it on her face whenever they saw a happy family as part of a mission. He recognized the expression because it had so often been on his own face when he looked at the other kids at school and realized they had no idea what it was like to spend their lives walking on eggshells, unsure of when their mother would next lash out at her children with the nearest wooden spoon or cigarette. So he'd held onto that knowledge about Skye's father tightly, an ace up his sleeve, until the moment he could act on it, certain that it would wipe away some of Skye's rancor toward him. After all, Cal might be a bit unsavory, but he's her blood.

But clearly Cal was not in fact the way to earn Skye's forgiveness, and Ward's not quite sure what to do next. Not return to Hydra, that's for sure. If they weren't out for his blood, he might go back and try to fight against them from the inside—that might impress Skye—but he's not too sorry that it's not an option. He's not particularly fond of them, and he knows Skye feels the same and that his recent alliance with them didn't sit too well with her. (He'd hoped that his explanation that he only sided with Hydra this second time to get close to Cal would exonerate him, but clearly that whole father-daughter reunion didn't go as planned.)

So he's on his own, then, operating outside any organization. He doesn't much mind that. He's been hiding who he really is for the last twelve years—both from SHIELD and from Hydra—and it'll be nice to drop his various acts for a while. He's got to stick close to SHIELD, of course, because how else can he keep Skye safe? Luckily he's got a safe house not far from their new base. And he'll watch for any opportunity to help Skye, to make her see that now that his debt to Garrett is over, the only thing he cares about is her, and he will be there for her, even if she doesn't want it right now.

Because she might think she'll never forgive him, but he knows the truth: she couldn't kill him. And that might be only the tiniest opening, and it's light years away from love or forgiveness, but it's something, and he's going to find a way to make it into more. Because Skye is the only light that's ever shined on a life filled with darkness, the only reason he has for living, and she doesn't see it yet but they are meant to be together. And the next time he sees her face to face, he's going to have figured out a way to show her that truth, and to make her see him as he is: no longer an agent of Hydra, no longer a man with a life debt to John Garett, just a man who's done the best he could with the cards he's been dealt.

Next time they come face to face, Skye will finally understand him.

. . . . . .

fin


End file.
